Absolution
by Hinto Hoshiko
Summary: Ken x Omi (yaoi) Post Gluhen. More than a year has passed and Ken is learning to cope with haunting memories of Omi. Mamoru's having difficulty with his new life and feels guilt for leaving his friends behind. Can the two find redemption in eachother?
1. Prologue part 1

This first chapter has been revised to better integrate the flash back sequence. 

Author Rant: 

Before you proceed in reading this story, which I am proud to say is my first ever work of Weiss fanfiction, there are a few things you should know. First of all, if you have not seen "Weiss Kreuz Gluhen" or at least read up on the series, you will probably be unable to understand the premise for this story. I am picking up _exactly_ where "Gluhen" left off in hopes of creating a sequel that I am satisfied with. 

I acknowledge the OVA and the Dramatic Precious; and will be using elements of both in this story. _However I have not read Weiss Side B._ ( Mostly b/c I live in a box ) and therefore will be ignoring the existence of _Side B _in this story simple b/c _I cannot write about what I haven't read_. If anyone knows of a good scanslation site that has _SideB_ posted, please, please, please, let me know. Also, just because I recognize the events of these chapters of Weiss, Does **not** mean I have to like them. Every fan is entitled to an opinion and mine is less than favorable of the "Gluhen" series. However, if you like it, more power to you. 

There are rumors flying around that do to the less and warm welcome "Gluhen" received in Japan, the creators are producing another _animated_ sequel featuring all four members of Weiss and returning to the original character designs. If there is truth to this rumor, only time will tell. In the mean time I hope you enjoy my rendition. 

__

I warn you now that if you have not seen "Gluhen", expect spoilers!

This story IS FULL OF YAOI! If you do not like, turn away now! 

You have been warned. 

Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to "Weiss Kreuz Gluhen" or any of the characters there in. The plot (if you can call it that) is entirely my design. 

Warnings: Expect angst, mild violence, the use of colorful language, sexual content (**yaoi/limeish**), lovers quarrels, and Omi acting like a Takatori for a while (can't be helped). 

(*~*~*~*~*~* - Signals end of flash back)

Please Don't remind me that I have problems with spelling and grammar… I know…it's a condition… if anyone really wants to beta let me know. I do the best I can on my own.

"Absolution" ~ Prologue Part 1

[A/N: Flashback in Ken POV, set somewhere in season 2] 

In the dim glow of the early light we laid: bare, broken, lost, and vulnerable. Our bodies in the early morning light intertwined, unconsciously reaching out for the warmth of supple skin. Nimble fingers twined with strands of silken hair, invoking low moans of pleasure from parched throats. Crisp white linens shifted with the slightest movement, creating a quiet rustle. Lips found lips, stealing moments of tranquility before the world awoke. 

Here, everything poured from the depths of the soul. No outside interruptions, just the feel of a lover's embrace as a new day dawned. Cherished moments such as these brought us back to life inside. Nights spent battling dark beasts, followed by the internal struggles of dejected henchmen. Sheltered in each other's arms, the sound of a sharp blade slicing through tattered flesh was now no more than a distant memory. 

__

All that remained was the touch of a gentle hand as it traced the exposed curve of a thigh. _Heavy breaths taking in the sweet scent of another man as our bodies coiled together, desperately seeking reassurance. Half-lidded blue eyes gazed up into pools of auburn, sliding a smile of contentment along rose-colored lips. The afterglow of sex hazed over my vision as my body straddling his waist pressed down to deliver another trail of long kisses down the smaller boy's neck. A few light flicks of the tongue along the nape and the blue-eyed young man was flat on his back, purring like a kitten. _

"Mmmmm, morning Ken-kun." 

__

I responded by sucking one small pink nub and rolling my tongue mercilessly around Omi's nipple. The smaller boy groaned and thrust against my athletic figure, running nimble fingers through my tousled dark fibers. Unwavering, I moved to tease a sensitive spot on my companion's side and intern caused an unprepared Omi to kick and giggle. 

"Ken-kuuun. That **tickles**! Stop it. Come on now." The flaxen youth playfully pushed me aside; "We have to get ready for work." 

__

Bubbling laughter echoed in the sparsely furnished room as I continued to prod spots that would make my lover squirm. Mornings such as these were rare; we had managed to leisurely wake like this maybe three? Four times? Since we began our secret romps. Not that we were ashamed of our 'relationship'; nor to say that Aya and Yoji were deaf, dumb, and blind. It just wasn't something we as a group ever felt the need to talk about. I was pretty sure they knew, but I figured it was one of those things you just didn't bring up at the dinner table. 

__

I finally ceased teasing my better half and rested my chin just above Omi's navel, twirling my index finger along the petite assassin's rib cage. His skin quivered under my touch. 

I don't think God could have made a more beautiful person than Omi. He's so damn kind, forgiving; he never seems to complain about anything, regardless of how much Yoji and I tease him and call him 'Chibi.' He puts everyone else's well being before his own and never expects anything in return… And his body…yumm… His limbs seem slender and delicate, but he can pack a punch. Soft peach skin stretched out over lean muscle; it's only flaw that damned one-inch scar just below his rib cage. I went crazy the day he came home with that wound; punching walls and screaming like Aya about wiping the entire Takatori clan off the face of the earth. Surprisingly, it was Aya-kun who grabbed me and threw my body against the wall, telling me to 'get a grip on myself and go take care of Omi' because he 'needed me right now.'

Omi needs me…

You know something's wrong when Aya acts like the only rational, sane one in the group. 

A gentle hand descended and shook my shoulder to break the trance of memory I was in. Deep blue eyes gazed down at me in concern. 

"Ken-kun? What are you thinking about?" 

"Have I ever told you how cute you look in the morning?" 

His cheeks blushed and tiny giggles caused his stomach to vibrate under my touch. "Ken-kun, it's too early in the morning to be acting so cheesy." 

__

"Ah ha!" I exclaimed and pulled myself up to plant a teasing kiss on Omi's forehead. "So you admit it's still early which means…" 

Wrapping strong arms around the smaller boy's torso, I flipped our positions so that the blond's head lay on my chest. 

" …That we can stay in bed a little longer." 

__

"No." Omi laughed out as he tried to stand up; "We have to get a shower. We **stink**." 

I pulled Omi back down; the hell I am letting this little beauty get away from me. "We'll shower together and save time, so stay." 

__

"**No**. no. no. no. no. no. no. noooooo." The 17-year-old groaned, as I stubbornly laid sprawled out beneath him, one hand on each of his slender thighs. Kami-sama, I just want to spend the day in bed with him. I don't want to have to get up and face the outside world when everything inside this one room feels so incredible. But my young lover was resolved _to help open the shop as planned. He pushed my hands aside and_ _climbed off the bed, attempting to drag me, unwillingly, behind him. _

However, I wasn't one to give in that easily. Omitchi was strong, but I had the athletes figure; I simply let my body go limp to act as dead weight as Omi attempted to pull my by the arm, naked, off the bed. We must have been one hell of a sight.

"We're gonna be late and Aya-kun is gonna have a fit." He wined, tugging with all his might on my left arm. His success rate was rather slow, as I moved about a centimeter across the bed with each tug. 

Ugh! Who cares what Aya thinks! I've got the sexiest thing under six feet tall standing in front of me in his boxers! Aya and Yotan can wait!

_"Well forgive me if I should invoke the wrath of the great Aya Fujimiya." _

__

" I'm serious. You know how upset he gets when we leave him alone with all those energetic high-school girls. There's no school today, they'll be out in droves." 

__

"Oh, poor Aya and Yoji, alone with a bunch of beautiful young women." 

__

Omi gave up and released his grip. "You're usually out of bed and dressed before I even wake up. What's gotten into you this morning?" 

__

I looked over and into those damn blue eyes. When I see those eyes I just lose myself. I can't explain why I want to spend the day in bed with him. I just do. Every moment we're together like this, I feel more alive, free, innocent: more like myself. 

A resounding thud echoed as I rolled out of the twin-sized bed and onto the hard wood floor, tangling myself in a pile of dirty laundry. Note to self; wash the dirty socks before they develop a plan for bedroom domination. 

Grasping the stray bed sheet and wrapping it around my waist to show some sign of modesty, (after all Omi did have boxers on) I stood and quickly rushed to envelop my lover's body in my arms. 

Foreheads pressed, nose to nose, we stood lost in each other's eyes, lips only centimeters away but never touching. Soft wisps of breath brushed over heated cheeks as heartbeats quickened. We were so close yet so far away. I hoped that if we stayed that way maybe, somehow, I could convey the answer he wanted through my gaze.

"Ken-kun…" Omi breathed in a barely audible whisper, his voice tickling my lips. The ashen blond's expression remained questioning. He began to squirm but that only caused my muscular arms to tighten. A long silence ensued. I kept thinking of what I wanted to say, but kept losing the words. Finally, I breathed in sharply and let out the first thing that came to mind. 

"Is it wrong for a person to want to stay where he feels…safe?"

__

For a moment Omi stood, eyes dazzled at my display of affection. Our relationship had always been kept so simple; when one had a rough night or couldn't sleep he'd crawl into the other's bed and the inevitable intercourse would follow. We didn't talk about it, it just **was**. I was treading on uncharted territory and feeling incredibly nervous. The blond's shaken expression wasn't very encouraging. 

Tears seemed to be forming in the corners of those sparkling blue orbs, and the sight tugged at my heart. I leaned in to seal my words with a soft kiss. Although the touch only lasted a split second, time seemed to pause. In that moment, there was no one else in the world… just the two of us locked in each other's arms. 

__

When we parted again, Omi smiled slyly at me before nestling his face in the curve of my neck. Everything just suddenly seemed wonderful. His soft voice tickled my ear as he spoke.

"I think I wouldn't mind if we could stay like this… forever."

__

I stopped breathing and my heart stood uncomfortably still. Somehow it seemed that Omi's statement should have made things… awkward…I mean, we weren't exactly **dating** and neither of us had ever been bold enough to openly say 'I love you'. The words just never seemed necessary. I wasn't even sure if the words were right. 

But…it wasn't awkward. 

Oddly enough, it felt damn near…perfect.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Blackness engulfed the huddled Ken Hidaka as he awoke in the dank cell. His dreams had once again left him feeling shaken and forlorn. Tear filled chocolate eyes open to gaze into nothingness. He'd almost forgotten that morning, or maybe he tried to repress it in the back of his mind.

'Forever.' It was a promise.

Strange how solitary confinement always opened the floodgates to his memory banks. Most nights there filled Ken's cluttered mind with screams of the dead. Sometimes he'd dream of the better times; memories of the flower shop, or when he and the guys had bought that mobile home and taken a road trip selling flowers out of the back; when he'd first started in J-league and finally felt like the world was at his feet. 

However it all developed into a lifetime of anger, deceit, and missed chances. He had more regrets at the age of twenty-five than most men did at fifty. 

The steel gray walls and itchy stone washed uniforms didn't exactly make him feel secure, but at least he was where a killer belonged. It was the last wish that Omi Tsukiyono ever granted him… he put Ken where he belonged: a place where he was safe from himself.

He couldn't quite remember when the blood lust began, but it happened so naturally that Ken couldn't fight it. He was an assassin and assassins _kill_. So what if he began to enjoy his night job a bit more? Aya had been the first to attempt a conversation on the issue. But most everything the Weiss leader said to Ken came in the form of a lecture, so why would that conversation stand out? 

It wasn't until the nightmares became progressively worse and began to bleed over into daylight flashbacks that it became apparent to Ken that it _was_ a problem. But by then he was on his way to London with Yoji. 

When Weiss finally disbanded, he gathered what was left of his pride and ran to the only person who could make the pain go away. 

Neither man offered a sentimental gesture or word of good-bye the day Omi signed the papers. Ken spoke only to say 'thank you' before departing as a car was brought around. 

He had tried to convince himself that Omi was still Omi despite his change of name, address, and occupation. But as the young heir handed over the documents sealing the ex-soccer star and Weiss member away from society, Ken noticed the last bit of light fizzle from his long time companion's eyes. 

He knew in that moment he was no longer looking at Omi Tsukiyono. He was gazing into the cold eyes of Mamoru Takatori. 

Their lives would forever be separate. 

He had no contact with Aya after seeing the redhead off at the airport and Yoji had simply disappeared. Not that he could go find them if he wanted to, but that didn't stop him from wondering. 

Prison wasn't exactly a field day, but at least he could play a little soccer in the yard and if he got pissed off he could punch some jackass who deserved it, for one reason or another.

Solitary confinement had its perks as well. If he woke up with a night terror he didn't have to worry about disturbing some roommate named 'Bubba.' Most importantly, he was alone. 

If he was alone he couldn't harm anyone. 

Curled into himself on a cold floor, Ken wiped away the last few drops of salty liquid as they seeped from the corners of his eyes. The creaking of sold steel, as the Guard slid open the cell door didn't even phase him. He didn't even cringe as the artificial light burned the outside of his eyelids.

"Outside. Time's up."

The brunet scoffed and buried his head in his folded arms, pulling his knees in tighter. Piercing brown eyes peered through chocolate bangs at the intruder. 

"Can't I have a bit longer?" 

The stocky middle-aged man rolled his eyes. "Listen kid, da warden says 'out'. Apparently you got company." 

Company? Now that was something new. For over a year he'd been sealed away from society and not once had anyone come to see him. Not that anyone knew where to find him.

Surprised, he lifted his head enough to see the polished black boots of the guard inches from his face. 

"Who?"

"I don't know. Ya go down there and they give ya fifteen minutes to sit with your loved one and sob about how much ya miss them and then I drag ya right back here. Got it? Ain't none of my business who the hell it is. Don't be coming back up here and expect to cry on my shoulder because yer girlfriend got knocked up by some other guy. I got more important shit to worry about."

Ken smirked. "I doubt that will be an issue." 

…real men only cry in the dark.

Lifting his body as if he had bricks in his pockets, Ken stood and allowed the guard to shackle his arms and legs so that he could be brought to the visitors' center. 

Only one person in the world knew where Ken was, but he never thought the bastard would have the audacity to come and visit. 

TBC… 

Ok so how was that? Not my first fic but definitely a new group of boys to play with ^_^ …I've been a huge Weiss fan for a long time and it wasn't until I saw "Gluhen" that I really felt this pestering urge to write fiction. 

Please Review!!! I wanna know what everyone thinks!!!__

Pretty please with an Omi on top? 


	2. Prologue part 2

A/N: Well… thanks for the response mina-san ^^ So far so good I suppose? Well for a first WK fic anyway…the way I work, **all chapters are subject to latter revision**. However, **the actual plot is never tampered with**. You don't need to go back and re-read a chapter I've change if you don't want to. Generally, I add internal monologues and revise for spelling and consistency. If an idea pops into my head latter that I like, I go back and add it… but it never changes the actual plot of the story. 

Thanks to the reviewers:

Riisha: Omi on top of Ken huh? … You totally read my mind ~_^ …Glad I somehow gave you an idea to use in your own work; makes me feel productive.

Sakusha: I'm glad you like my continuation ^_^ I'm gonna keep writing it until I'm satisfied with the outcome. I hope you will be too. 

Tweety: Glad you like my writing style ^_^ I'll definitely be doing everything in my power to salvage Omi and Ken's relationship…

So I give you the next chapter…. 

Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to "Weiss Kreuz Gluhen" or any of the characters there in. The plot (if you can call it that) is entirely my design. 

Warnings: Expect angst, mild violence, the use of colorful language, sexual content (**yaoi/limeish**), lovers quarrels, and Omi acting like a Takatori for a while (can't be helped). 

(*~*~*~*~*~* - Signals end of flash back)

"Absolution" ~ Prologue Part 2

[A/N: opening flash back Omi POV set after the death of Kase in season 1]

__

The rain pinged off streetlights and poured out of gutters, sparkling in the light of the full moon like silver tears. Alone, huddled under a small red umbrella, I braved the stormy streets. Desperately searching for any sign of Ken. 

Aya and Ken had one of their trademark spats that morning. Then, the hot-tempered teen ran off to go work with a local peewee-soccer team he'd been coaching. Nothing out of the ordinary really. Only when it was time for our afternoon shift, he didn't come back. I figured he wouldn't want to see Aya, so I swapped shifts to avoid anymore eruptions from the two. But I closed the flower shop on my own. 

Dinner was eerily quiet. I prepared Ken's favorite, homemade beef and vegetable ramen. I even delayed the meal for two hours in hopes he would come home and join us. 

We finally ate when Yoji started to complain that his stomach was about to implode. 

The only sound throughout the meal was the silverware scraping cheap porcelain. Aya hardly ate at all, and Yoji just kept looking at the door, picking at the cold noodles and sighing. The whole scene made me think that they knew something I didn't. 

Long after those two went to bed, I stayed awake on the sofa, watching infomercials, waiting. My eyes transfixed on the stairs, convinced that any second, Ken would walk through the door with some crazy story about how he got really lost coming home somehow. 

The midnight hour approached without so much as a sound from the rest of the house. 

Then the storm came. 

Rain pounded the windows of the small apartment as the thunderstorm raged outside. My concern increased by the second. Where the heck was he? Ken had a knack for disappearing after feuding with Aya, but he always came home after a few hours. Not to mention he missed a MEAL. 

We're BOYS. We're like dogs. We always come home when we know there's going to be FOOD. 

Frustrated, I grabbed the remote, clicked off the TV, and resolved to go out and find the brunette on my own. Knowing Aya would worry; I scribbled a note and posted it on the fridge. Again… guys … food… he'd find it easily. 

Wandering around the dark city streets, the rain soaked through my shoes and into my socks, which made walking uncomfortable. I'd been everywhere and anywhere Ken might have gone to be alone and no luck. 

I could hear Aya's voice in my head, lecturing me about how ridiculous it was to go wondering out in the rain. Every bone in my body ached, reminding me that I had cram school tomorrow and I should be in bed. I began to wonder if my friend had already gone home, and was wondering where I had gone. I hope I haven't made anyone worry. 

I was ready to give up when the high stadium lights around the fields in the park caught my eye.

Now only some insane person with no regard for his own well being would be sitting in the park on a night like this. Thus, it was a possibility that Ken was still running around the field kicking a soccer ball. If nothing else I'd just be taking the scenic route home and the trees would help keep some of the rain off. 

The wind picked up a bit and the branches along the path began whipping around violently. I tightened my grip on the umbrella as Mother Nature threatened to whisk it away. But physical strength had never been my strong suit and I lost my battle with the wind. The red umbrella flew from my hands right into the high branches of an oak tree. I stared up at the lost object in disbelief, letting the raindrops splatter on my face. 

Now I had nothing to shelter Ken (if I should find him) or myself. 

The rain began to come down in sheets and I took off running in the direction of the house. The winding path led me past the soccer field, and I stopped briefly, just on the chance he was still there. 

My heart lurched as I noticed a dark figure seated on the bottom row of aluminum bleachers. Mission accomplished.

"Ken-kun! Ken-kuuuuun!!" I called, racing down a muddy hill and doing my best not to fall on the slippery grass. I knew it was Ken. It had to be! The way the figure sat, the hair, the clothes, it HAD to be him. 

So why didn't he look over or answer when I called him? 

Gasping for air, I stopped about a yard away and starred at an unresponsive Ken. Chocolate hair soaked and dripping, the young lad sat with a completely deflated soccer ball on the ground between his feet. Clothes soaked so they clung like a second skin; the boy just gazed down at his upturned palms, lifelessly. 

Something was REALLY wrong. 

"Ken-kun?" I whispered, voice raspy from lack of sleep and a dry throat. My heart was pounding out of my chest from the sprint. The beating echoed in my ears like a drum. 

Ken remained like a statue, frozen in the rain; examining his hands. I approached slowly, placing a light touch on the boy's shoulder. It felt like if a touched him, he would crumble beneath my fingers. 

The dark haired youth winced as the spell he was under seemed to break and he quickly turned and gazed up at me, wide-eyed. 

"Omitchi? Why are you here?" 

What a question! Why AM I here? I spent the whole night worried to the point where I thought I was going to vomit at any moment. I wanted to see him so badly. To know that he was ok! 

"Ken its 1am! You've been gone fourteen hours!" My throat ached as I tried to get through to him. I mean, wasn't it obvious why I was there? I'm human. I care. I was worried about my best friend! 

"My hands…they won't stop shaking." He replied, and looked back down at his damp upturned palms that seemed to glow a ghostly white under the artificial light. 

Everything about his demeanor made him seem so far away. Almost like a lost child. 

"Ken-kun." I knelt down on the muddy grass and reached up to wipe the slick hair from Ken's forehead. 

"I just can't go back I can't stop shaking…"

The heat of his brow sent shivers down my arm. "Ken-kun you're burning up!"

"I just need … someone….Omi?"

His voice cracked as he finally looked at me. I mean really looked at me, almost as if those deep brown orbs saw right through me. Breath stuck in my throat and water dripped from my bangs to obscure my vision, I jerked back in surprise. 

But Ken reached out abruptly, grabbing my arm. 

" Don't go… please? I just need….." 

Completely perplexed, I looked down at the bronzed hand that desperately clung to my left arm. His hold loosened and abruptly released me. 

The thunder roared across the sky and the wind began to pick up again. 

" Let's go home, Ken-kun. Please?" 

I approached him again, only this time I lost my balance on the wet field and fell face forward. 

Expecting to slam face first into the mud, my body went ridged. Only, strong arms suddenly wrapped around me and I was nestled against soaked cloth. 

I fell, right into Ken's chest. 

"Gomen nasai. Arrigato." I stammered as I tried to stand again. But his arms squeezed tighter until it hurt like I couldn't breathe. 

Ken seemed to choke back tears. 

"I just need some one to hold on to…Damn it……" 

Once my initial surprise passed, the only thing I could do was sigh and give in. I wrapped my slender arms around his back and let one hand drift to run through the matted mass of wet hair. His body shivered as tears mixed with raindrops. 

Sometimes I wonder if when it seems like we can't just breakdown and let everything out, the sky cries for us. 

* ~*~*~* ~* 

Mamoru Takatori awoke from the dream panting and dripping with sweat. Shaking hands quickly fumbled for a small orange bottle on the nightstand, knocking over the lamp and alarm clock. Popping off the cap he quickly pulled out two purple and yellow pills and swallowed them hard. 

Too late: The headache had already begun to clamp down like a vice on his brain. 

For almost six months now, he'd suffered from attacks, usually following nightmares. Ever since he and his grandfather had begun disagreeing on the selection of new Weiss members. The debate between family brought back painful memories of a past he couldn't seem to forget. 

__

'I wanted a life where I wouldn't have to kill. But now I'm just stuck pulling the strings.' 

Kritiker needs Weiss. The four-person assassin group had been the organization's backbone since its creation. Although the Crashers were always available; Saijo [1] was adamant about re-forming the group and a data base of candidates had been set up. Some of the would-be assassins were barely thirteen. Thirteen! It had been difficult enough for Mamuro to send Sena into the battlefield and watch the teen suffer. Perhaps he chose the young boy because he saw some of the old Omi Tsukiyono in him. 

In the end, he felt responsible for Sena's demise. He of all people should know better than to pin a young boy against his parent. At first, all he wanted to do was please his grandfather, an old man who was practically on his deathbed. So he eventually fell into his role. Becoming the new Persia was just a way to watch over his former comrades, but he was naive and unprepared for the duties the role entailed. Eventually he adjusted, but with the parting of the third generation Weiss [2] left him feeling lonely. Sharing his thoughts with his grandfather proved a very bad idea indeed, for the eldest Takatori once again brought up the subject of marriage. 

Marriage…

Who the hell was he supposed to hold with such dirty hands? 

__

'Damnit now I'm thinking like Ken.' 

Furthermore, Mamoru resolved the moment he walked through the mansion's gates; the Takatori line would end with him. He would not be responsible for bringing another child into this web of deceit. Not to mention the only girl he'd ever kissed was Ouka, his own damn half-sister. He had one lover in his entire life, another male. What the hell did he know about pleasing a woman and being a good husband and father? 

Wiping away some of the sweat on his brow, he threw a fist at the wall and squeaked as his knuckles hit the plaster. 

__

'Damn this weak body.' He growled inwardly before flopping back onto the bed. The headache only squeezed his head tighter as he attempted to sleep again. 

As his heavy eyelids began to drift south again, the door to his suite was thrown open by a guard in a black suit. Startled, the blond leapt from his bed and stood in only his underwear. 

"Oh…uh..Forgive me Takatori-sama." The man stammered and lowered his gun. " I thought I heard a noise." 

"Everything is fine." Mamuro replied, obviously annoyed. 

"Uh …Hai. Gomen nasai." 

The black suit bowed and retreated, quickly shutting the door behind him. 

Sighing, the blue-eyed young man gave up on sleep and turned toward the window, which over-looked the estate's garden. Rain poured down and the flowering plants seemed to dance in the wind in thanks for the sky's nourishment. 

Mamoru glanced down to see that he had been unconsciously rubbing the tiny scar on his abdomen. 

The dream, the scar, and the night sweats: all because tomorrow he had an important business venture to make in hopes of finalizing the fourth generation of Weiss. His grandfather would most likely have him shot if he knew where his young heir was planning to go.

Inwardly, he damned his grandfather for convincing him to stay. He damned the flowers for having the freedom to grow. He damned the rain for falling. 

He damned himself for not being able to just walk away.

'Kuso. This place is a prison.' 

TBC…

[Notes]

[1] Omi's grandfather… appears briefly in Gluhen and plays a huge role in the dramatic image albums (which I just finished today ^_^). 

[2] Back story note… the 1st Weiss was annihilated on a mission… the second group disbanded after refusing to participate in the Takatori family feud… Therefore our boys are generation three…I've met Weiss fans who don't know this so I thought I'd better offer explanation. 

End Note: Yeah I know, Omi's not the ganki uke we all know and love… well what do you think he'd turn out like, living with his manipulative bastard of a grandfather for a year? 

As I mentioned before, I finished reading the transcripts for the 'dramatic image/precious' albums today, and that kinda fueled this chapter. I really feel that Omi needs a voice and therefore decided to add this chapter instead of going right into the plot. I really love that kid and I can't believe the shit he let his grandfather get away with in the dramatic precious…

Like it? Hate it? Press that little button and let me know! ^_^ 


	3. Visiting Phantoms

Hey guys! Look who got off her but and wrote another chapter! Long over-due I know. On the plus side I've picked up Volumes 1&2 of 'Weiss Side B' and downloaded translations for the majority of it. So far I can't say much for the plot, but the art style is amazing. Although, I am still perplexed as to why Ken makes in entrance in volume 2 wearing platform-steel toed boots and fuzzy collared jacket. Aya even seems slightly confused by it. 

A/N: **The prologues have been revised for spelling and grammar**. Wow, I've gotten quite a favorable response to this ^____^ makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

Oh so many to thank…. 

Shadowcat0070 : yup generation 3… learn something new everyday huh? Glad you liked the last chapter! 

Chrysoprase : Yeah, I'm sticking to the old character designs…its just how I always imagine the guys. Plus, Omi's hair in Gluhen is the weirdest color… it's kinda green, kinda gray, kinda…mossy 0_o … Ocording to character profiles I've read I think it's black. Sorry to confuse you. I'm happy you like my story!! 

Riisha : Gluhen is two years after DP?? I thought Gluhen picked up right after the DP… shows what I know. Watashi wa baka.. thanks for the info and thanks for reading! 

Kearoru : I was lucky enough to have a friend who is a big Weiss fan and she just had printed transcripts of the dramatic albums just laying around… so I don't know what web site she got em from… I know 'Aya no Weib' had some of the image albums translated along with the 'Assassin and a White Shaman' manga and some other stuffs. Here's the sites URL: 

Happy hunting! 

s1ncer1ty : I made your night?? W00t! * blushes * thanks for all the praise! 

Sakusha : Sorry to sneak changes in there on ya… If I change anything I'll mention it in the author's note of the most recent chapter. Thanks for reading I'm glad you're enjoying it!! 

Kasra : You rock… that's like all I can say… You f-ing rock

Involuntary-Black-sheep: I WROTE MORE! See? ^_^ 

A Spell: reading DP is an experience, best of luck to you with that. I hope you continue to find this story intriguing... I will do my best to make it so! 

Bugnuks And Crossbows: look update...do I get strawberries and whipped cream now? Can I put the whipped cream on Ken? Can I make Omi lick it off? (With an R rating I doubt it *pouts *) 

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More A/N: Oh yeah, as I mentioned to one reviewer, Omi/Mamoru's hair for the sake of this story is _Blond. _Technically, I believe it's black, but I'm concerned that if I'm going and forth between past and present time with all the flashbacks, I'm going to confuse the hell out of the readers. 

And now… the story…

Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to "Weiss Kreuz Gluhen" or any of the characters there in. The plot (if you can call it that) is entirely my design.

Warnings: Expect angst, mild violence, the use of colorful language, sexual content (yaoi/limeish), lovers quarrels, and Omi acting like a Takatori for a while (can't be helped). Possibly some OOCness depending on who you perceive Ken's dementia and Omi's Takatori-ness developing. 

( ~!~!~!~!~!~ - Signals change in scene) 

(*~*~*~*~*~* - Signals beginning/end of flash back)

__

( Flash Backs and thoughts in italics) 

"Absolution" ~ Chapter 1 ~ 'Visiting Phantoms'

Unnaturally white light pierced through Ken's retinas like thousands of tiny needles as he was led bound in shackles down the main hall. The resonating sound of shaking steel bars coupled with booming voices shouting catcalls melded into static background noise as he stumbled along, guided by two well armed guards. The binding cuffs and his own dazed mind hindered his movements. Every bone in his body screamed for him to return to his idark cell. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone, to live out the rest of his days undisturbed by an outside world that didn't need him anymore.

Curiosity kept his feet shuffling along the path. He needed to see for himself if his suspicions were correct. Perhaps what awaited him was worse than any scenario his mind could devise. Ken's brain boggled as he attempted to imagine exactly how the next fifteen minutes of his life would play out.

A sharp jab delivered to his right side by the taller of the two guards snapped him back to the present task. The dark haired youth stood before a steel door with a small glass window looking out into the visitors' center. The more portly guard fumbled in his pocket for the key. Ken's heart raced. He couldn't remember ever being this nervous. Not that he really had reason to be, many inmates received visitors. Why should he be any different? 

The door swung open and he was nudged forward. The push made him flinch but was not enough to force his feet to move forward. His dark eyes remained transfixed by the floor. The lump in his throat doubled in size instantly and he struggled to repress the urge to vomit. The taller guard gestured toward the open doorway and waited for Ken to move, but the young inmate's feet remained fixed firmly to the floor

"What's this one's problem?" the thin towering man scowled, addressing his co-worker. 

His stocky companion held the door and shrugged, eyeing Ken with a hint of concern. 

"Kid, what's wrong with ya now? Ya got family waiting out there. Come on now. Don't wanna keep 'em waiting now, do ya?" 

'Family…' Ken slowly raised his head. No, anyone who waited for him couldn't be family. The only group he had ever belonged to disappeared a long time ago. Hidaka Ken had been born an orphan and God seemed to have made sure that he was to die one as well. 

Tentatively, he pushed one foot forward. 

"Could you move a little faster there? We ain't got all day and neither does your guest." 

Ken bit his tongue. He wanted to scream for the guard to go to hell. He didn't have family. He didn't want family. He wanted to get back in his damn cell where he belonged and sit with his memories of the only people who had had any significance in his life. He wanted to run out into the yard and kick around a soccer ball, forgetting all the pain. But the fates were telling him that he must do this. There was a reason he needed to meet someone out there today.

"We haven't got all day 1257, _move_." 

The brunette turned and shot the obnoxious man his best sarcastic grin. Tempted as he was to knee the man in the balls and run like hell, the cuffs restricted his movements. 

"Well now, no point in delaying you gentlemen any longer. I wouldn't want to keep you from doing your jobs, now would I?"

'Might as well get this over with.' 

Inhaling sharply, he willed his feet to carry him through the doorframe and into a long hall. The guards continued at his sides, both eyeing him warily. Ken had developed a reputation of being the prison's resident troublemaker; his idea of roughhousing extended to include breaking other prisoners' limbs. No guard enjoyed accompanying him; however, at least two always had their eye on him. But Ken had gotten used to it. Somehow, that dark, miserable, smelly jail had become his home. 

The hall was lined with tall steel doors, similar to the ones leading to the prisoners' cells, except for the windows on each door, and requisite guard stationed outside. Ken turned his head as he walked and peered into each room, most devoid of anything beyond a simple long metal table and pair of folding chairs. A few had men crying in their wives' laps; in others, lawyers advised prisoners on appeals.

Gazing upon the all too typical scenarios, Ken asked himself for the first time, 'Why am I here? I'm not like these guys. I came here looking for a way to fill the void and I found it, didn't I?" 

But his musings were cut short. The taller guard grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. 

"Where do you think you're going? We're here." 

"Already?" He blinked, startled. "Well now that was a short walk, hardly the exercise I need to keep up my figure." 

The larger man rolled his eyes. "Cut the crap 1257." 

" You know, you could make an effort to be more personable." 

Both uniformed men looked at each other and shrugged. No one had the patience to deal with Hidaka Ken's mouth. They stayed quiet and waited for him to shut up. The more portly guard pointed to the closed door to their right, turning Ken's attention to the person waiting inside. 

Immediately, brown eyes locked onto a pair of blue through the dirty glass. 

The dark haired man's heart skipped as electricity rolled down his spine. 

Blue eyes. Ashen blond hair. 

Omi…

His mouth opened to form the name but he stopped short. 

No, not Omi. Omi didn't wear a black Gucci suit or carry a Prada bag. He never sat quietly with his hands folded; no Omi fidgeted and wore khaki shorts with bright colored shirts that showed off his mid-drift. 

That man wasn't Tsukiyono Omi. 

That man was Takatori Mamoru. 

Ken's brain began to download and run a list of the scenarios that would bring _that man_ to visit with him, the majority of which involved some catastrophic fate befalling one of their former teammates. A more optimistic possibility was the re-formation of the old Weiss - if anyone could call that optimistic. Less than an hour ago the 25-year-old convict's life had been very simple; eat, try to sleep, think. What was the world coming to when a man couldn't just sit in his two-by-four cell and eat his damn cold oatmeal in the mornings? Why did his world have to collapse in on itself before breakfast? 

The heavy door creaked on its hinges and hit the cinderblock wall with an echoing bang. The guards pushed him forward yet again and Ken was forcibly shuffled into the room, all the while taking great care not to even glance in the young Takatori's direction. Two rod-iron chairs sat on either side of a long, wooden table, one already taken, and the other awaiting its new occupant. 

Another eardrum shattering bang and the click of the lock made the brown-eyed-man cringe as if in pain. He was now bound and shackled, locked in close quarters with a Takatori; quite possibly every member of Weiss' worst nightmare. He tried to slow his breathing and remain clam, after all it was Mamoru and Mamoru was still Persia; but Ken couldn't help but wonder if the boy still carried a case of poison darts in his pocket. After all, old habits did die-hard. 

Remaining poised and offering a diplomatic smile, Mamoru gestured toward the empty chair. "Sit please." 

His voice sounding so foreign, so cold, it stung Ken's ears. Still feeling insecure, but nevertheless filled with a strong desire to make sense of the situation, the prisoner complied. Head bowed with dark chocolate bangs covering his uncertain expression he took his place opposite Mamoru, the chains attached to the cuffs at his hands and feet rustling as they settled against the metal chair. Still avoiding eye contact, Ken focused on the initials and dates etched into the wooden table. A long awkward silence hung over the two as the brunette felt deep blue eyes examine him from head to toe.

The soft click of a lock and crackling of crumpled paper brought Ken's attention from the jaggedly incised writing to the figure across from him. He lifted his head enough to see the young Takatori fumbling through his briefcase, removing a handful of manila folders. Placing them on the table, the stuffed suit straightened his posture and proceeded to formally address his companion. "Hidaka-san, I trust you have been well." 

'Oh absolutely peachy.' Ken scoffed inwardly. 'Nothing makes my day more exciting then waking up to the same four steel walls. Yanno, we just don't have enough quality time like this together. Nothing makes my morning more delightful then being kicked around by a bunch of sweaty guards only to be chained up and led to a tiny locked room with _your_ smiling face to greet me. We simply _must_ do this more often.' 

Mamoru sighed, easily detecting Ken's annoyance. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

With a light push, three manila folders glided over to the jailbird's side of the table, spilling out several documents and photographs of unfamiliar faces. Ken didn't even flinch. "I've secured this room so that no one will be able to listen to or record our conversation."

'Oh how considerate of you. Unfortunately I really hadn't planned for this situation so I really have nothing to say.' 

The chair squeaked as the blonde rocked back and continued to speak. 

__

"What you see before you are the newly selected members of Weiss. All three are highly talented young men from a variety of economic and cultural backgrounds. Currently, they are going through a virtual reality training program I specially designed." 

'Well its good to know all those years of computer programming and hacking can still be put to good use.' 

"After that little show you and Abyssinian put on all those years ago, I thought it wise that they take time to learn how to hunt together as a team [1]." 

'Yeah well... Aya punched me first.'

"However as team, there is something they still lack…"

Although he remained unmoving, everything began to come together in Ken's mind and his brown eyes began to widen his expression still hidden from Mamoru's sight. 

'Three members of Weiss…. But every generation of Weiss has always had at least four…. Lord please let him say they lack commitment or training in hand to hand combat or something. _Anything_ but what I think he's thinking.' 

"We are short on time so I'll be blunt. These three boys are very good at what they do, but they are still _boys_. The oldest is only nineteen. All of them have experienced severe trauma at some point in their lives. They are in need of a cornerstone to hold the group together. Someone with experience…"

' Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Please…'

"Siberian…."

'No…'

"I need you…"

'Please don't ask…'

"To once again…"

'Can't you see? I can't do it anymore…'

"Be part of Weiss. I need you to lead these boys." 

It was if the very air they breathed had turned to ice as the last sentence was uttered. The fluorescent light above flickered; the rumble of a horde of prisoners being ushered off to breakfast nearby faded slowly. It was as if someone had turned down the volume in Ken's head. All the white noise of everyday life faded and the sound of his own breathing became suddenly deafening. Inhaling deeply, feeling as if he was about to choke on his own spit, brown eyes filling with fire finally made their way to make eye contact with Mamoru for the first time in a year. 

Those blue eyes were as cold and lifeless as Ken remembered, but everything else about his appearance (sans suit, briefcase, and …were those cigars in his pocket?) screamed Omi. His tongue was caught itself in a knot; coherent thoughts ran through his brain screaming 'No! No! No!' but the simple two letter word refused to emerge from his lips. This man had taken away from him what he cared for most in the world, yet the simple physical resemblance between the two still tripped him up. To see that figure sitting there made his stomach ache; yet to look in those eyes chilled him. Omi was a wonderful, adoring, gentle being, and Mamoru Takatori was the cancer that killed him. 

Contradicting thought and emotions waged a battle in Ken's brain. Sorting through the conflict, Ken looked Persia right in the eye and spat out the only the first few words that came to mind. "Go home." 

Rocking forward in his chair, the young Takatori stretched out his arms and neatly folded his ands on the table. "I want you to seriously consider this opportunity. I am prepared to offer you a considerable increase in salary plus-"

"Plus what? Medical benefits??" Ken interrupted eyes ablaze and zeroed in on their target. "This isn't a salary man's job! There is no _plus_ to this! You're asking me to lead a bunch of _kids_ on a killing spree across Japan and get paid for it! Well I say get the hell out of my house and go home to your freaking Grandpa. Heh, speaking of which, does he even know where his precious little heir ran off to today?" 

The blonde shook his head and stood, leaning forward and taking the files from the table. "If you're asking if my Grandfather authorized this meeting, the answer is 'no'. _I _am Persia. I and only _I _control Weiss. I came here of my own free will because I think you are the only one who can do this job, Siberian." 

Pulling back, he gathered the files into his briefcase and clicked the smooth brass locks, shutting it. Dignified as a banker, his back went rigid and he proceeded to straighten the hem of his finely tailored suit. 

"Perhaps you just need more time to think it over," he quipped, smirking at a still infuriated Ken. Wasting no more time, Mamoru spun on his heal and began to walk to the door; each footstep separating serving to calm the brunette's agitated breathing a little more. 

Something still did not sit right with Ken about the premise of their encounter.Persia came to ask if he would be the new leader of Weiss. Aya was the one with all the leadership qualities. The redhead had always been the one with the over-protective instincts toward children: first Aya-chan, then Omi, and most recently, Sena. While Ken considered himself an excellent soccer coach, he was not the type to lead three young boys into the charge of battle. That was Aya's job. 

Something really was not right about all this….

"Wait," he called flatly just before Persia's fingers graced the doorknob. The man in the charcoal black suit paused and slowly lowered his hand. "Where's Aya? Why didn't you take this little _business proposal_ to him?" 

Silence hung in the room, as the young heir remained completely still and silent. 

"God damn it, answer me! We both know Aya should be the one doing this. Why didn't you go to him?" 

Turning to face Ken once more, he inhaled sharply. "No one has any idea about Abyssinian's whereabouts. According to our intelligence, you were the last person to see him, at the airport in Kyoto, about a year ago." 

Scoffing, the dark haired man reclined in his seat as much as the chains would allow. "So basically I'm second choice here? If you could locate Aya he'd be getting your grand proposal instead of me?" 

"Hidaka, you _need_ this." Mamoru's tone became slightly more uneven as he spoke and he began gesturing with his hands in an exaggerated fashion. " Don't you think our organization has been keeping tabs on your progress the past year? I've got a whole filing cabinet dedicated to the ruckus you've created in the past four months alone. You became incarcerated of your own free will for the purpose of rehabilitating yourself. Well, you've gotten far too comfortable in these surroundings and quite frankly, you've fallen back into old habits."

"I haven't killed anyone." 

"That's not what I was implying. You've been responsible for starting the majority of the riots that have occurred here in the past six weeks alone. You spend more time in solitary confinement than any other inmate does. The warden has threatened to send you to a maximum-security facility just to keep you in line. Every time you act out they cut back on your yard time. Disrespect for authority, lashing out at others, and hiding away in a closet. _Those_ are the old habits I'm concerned about. You need to get out of here." 

"What the hell do _you_ know about what I need? I certainly don't _need_ to be your hunting dog!" 

"Damn it, Ken-kun!" 

Instantly the room was once again quiet, a silence that hung like the static on a television set in their ears. Tension increased the decibel level with every fraction of a second. Mamoru knew exactly what he'd said wrong before the sentence even passed his lips. He could see the inferno blazing behind Ken's eyes and froze like a deer in the headlights. 

Ken's head snapped back like he'd been spit in the face the second he heard the name 'Ken-kun' escape from the Takatori's lips. 

That had been the nickname that Omi and only Omi called him. To hear that name come from the mouth of a man he considered to be nothing more than another Takatori bastard feeding a political carrier on the spilt blood of others….

Whatever little sanity Ken had left had just packed its bags and moved out. 

"_What_ did you just call me?" he growled, his throat now dry and voice cracking. Poised on the edge of the chair, he glared daggers. 

The blonde began backing toward the door, a few slow steps at first, then spinning to bolt. Ken had already anticipated the move and had leapt from his chair, dislocated his right wrist to allow him to free one hand from the shackles, and charged toward him. 

With all of the force of his body weight, the ex-soccer star plowed Mamoru against the wall and twisted his body to grab the blonde's throat with his free hand [2]. The two stood with only inches between their forms. Both panting for breath - Mamoru from fear, Ken out of anger, and for a split second, neither moved. The brunette noted that the blue-eyed boy had gained about an inch on him and lost a considerable amount of weight since they'd last met. Obvious features he'd missed while sitting at the table. 

Persia turned his head toward the small window on the door to see if by chance the guard was passing by. This caused Ken to tighten his grip on the young man's throat and Mamoru choked, gasping for air.

"Look at me!" he demanded, gritting his teeth. "Don't you ever _ever _call me that again. Do you understand?!" 

"I'll do… ugh… what I damn well… please."

"Fuck you!" Ken spat and dropped Mamoru to the floor. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he shot back with a provocative smile. 

"What's the matter? Bored with Grandpa Takatori's toys already?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Oh don't give me this bullshit!" Hovering over Mamoru, who was balled up on the floor against the wall still trying to catch his breath, Ken couldn't help but think how pathetic the man had become. It was sad really, the heir to the great Takatori family piled on the floor gasping like he was having an asthma attack and terrified of one of his own former employees. 

"Move!" he cried, struggling to get up, but Ken held the younger man down with only his right hand, tugging on his shaggy blonde locks.

"I will move, but only after you promise me that I will never have to see your sorry face again." 

Refusing to look at Ken, he closed his eyes wincing in pain. " I _own_ you."

"_Wrong_ answer." And his fingers coiled more tightly around the silken strands causing tears to form at the corners of tightly shut blue eyes. 

"What the hell do you want from me Siberian!?" 

The blonde's pained voice resounded off the walls and stung in Ken's ears. 

What did he want, indeed? That was the simplest question he'd ever been asked. 

Releasing his death grip on the now taller boy's hair, he reached down and pulled one of the cigars and a lighter from the suit's breast pocket. He slowly wandered back to his chair, sat down, bit the end of the cigar and lit it. Taking a few puffs he smirked at Mamoru, holding the cigar in his free hand. He was rather disgusted by the taste, being a rather athletic person he did not smoke, but this was about appearance.

From across the room, two gray-blue eyes looked on, dumbfounded. 

"What do I want from _you_… let me think. Well firstly, Weiss generation four is dead. _Siberian _is dead. I don't want you or Kritiker watching over me, keeping files on me, or coming in here expecting favors. Secondly, I want _you_ out of here and I want you to promise not to come back." 

Mamoru pulled himself from the floor with a heavy sigh and collected his belongings. "You drive a hard bargain, Hidaka-san, but if this is your final decision, then I give you my word as a Takatori that you will be able to remain here undisturbed by our organization." 

Ken leaned back in his seat. "A Takatori's word means nothing to me."

Mamoru dropped his shoulders and spoke quietly in defeat "I have nothing else to give. What is it you want?"

Snuffing the cigar on his left hand before dropping it to the floor, Ken turned away, hanging his head. "You come in here telling me what I need and then ask me what I want. Well let me clue you in on what I both need and want. The same thing I've needed and wanted for the past four years [3]." Ken's voice trailed off for a moment, and when he spoke again, he seemed even more quiet and distant. " I want Omi… I want my best friend back." 

"That, I'm afraid, is not something I can give. The dead should be left to rest in peace." 

With that, Mamoru Takatori walked out the door, and out of Ken Hidaka's life. 

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

At a steady but quick pace, the young blonde heir pushed through the glass doors leading to the parking lot, failing even to return the security guard's kind nod. Thunder clapped, the summer heat radiating from the black top. Tiny drops of water sprinkled onto the pavement, creating puffs of steam around his feet.

Throwing away all pretense of composure, he darted for the black town car. Not willing to wait for his chauffeur, he grabbed the handle of the car door and threw his body on to the cool leather like he had been diving away from an explosion. Immediately, he opened the lock on his briefcase and dumped its contents onto the seat. While he shifted through the clutter, the driver lowered the tinted glass divider between the rear passenger seats and the driver's. 

"Are you alright, sir?" the elderly man inquired, looking in the rear view mirror to see his young master fumbling with the lid of a pill bottle.

"Sir?" 

"Drive," Mamoru commanded, still attempting to open the lid, his hands shaking violently.

"Sir, are you sure I shouldn't ring the house? Maybe get the doctor to-" 

"I SAID DRIVE!" 

"Yes Takatori-sama" 

With that, the glass divider rose again and the car sped off towards the gate. 

TBC……

[1] I've reading translations of the "Assassin and a White Shaman manga. The first time Ken and Aya meet, they wind up beating each other up. Then, when Aya comes by the shop the next day, Ken trashes the shop kicking Aya's butt, then leaves Omi to clean up the mess. The whole thing lands Aya in Yoji's bed so it's all ok by me ^_^ 

I'm drawing on a mesh of everything at his point.

[2] I have no idea whatsoever if it is medically possible to dislocate your wrist to slip out of handcuffs… I've seen it in movies so meh. 

[3] Gluhen begins 3 years after DP ends. So I'm estimating four. 


End file.
